


George and Flo

by rowanix



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Fluff, Humor, florge?, set between tws and thb i suppose, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 11:45:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18222716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowanix/pseuds/rowanix
Summary: The tale of how George and Flo ended up being friends.





	George and Flo

**Author's Note:**

> Another request from tumblr that I wrote a damn while ago.

The first time George met up with Flo on his own, he was a little apprehensive. He had a right to be, he figured, after Lockwood’s stories of her throwing agents in the river if they annoyed her. He still had research notes in his pocket and didn’t particularly want them to get wet.

He spotted Flo a distance away, trudging up the river bank and poking the mud beneath the water with a stick.

“Hullo, Flo.”

Flo looked up sharply and stood, staring at him for a moment, bright blue eyes seemingly glowing beneath her straw hat. George felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle, but he forced a smile.

“I need a favour,” he continued.

“I figured,” she said. “People rarely come just to say ‘hi’. Where’s Locky?”

“On a case with Luce,” George replied. “Hopefully they don’t burn the place down again.”

Flo snorted at that. “Wouldn’t put it past them. So, out with it. What do you want?”

“I was just wondering if you had any skulls in that sack of yours,” George replied, casually. “Preferably with low-level psychic activity.”

Flo raised an eyebrow. “What for?”

“To use as a control,” George said, removing his glasses to clean them on his shirt, mostly to have an excuse to break eye contact with those piercing blue eyes. “I’m in possession of a skull with a powerful ghost attached to it. I need another for an experiment.”

“Hmm.”

“I have liquorice,” George said, retrieving the paper bag from his pocket.

Flo looked at the bag for a moment but didn’t take it. “What kind of experiment?”

“I’m testing the effect of microwaves on the formation of ectoplasm.”

Flo stared at him for a moment in silence, then, “You want… to microwave… a ghost?”

“In layman’s terms, yes.”

“Can I watch?”

George shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

Flo smiled, then went about rifling through her sack.

“Rat skull?”

“No.”

“Severed finger?”

“No.”

“Oh, here we are.” She pulled a cracked skull from her sack. Even through its thick coating of algae, it was clearly human. “Type 1, as far as I can tell.”

“Perfect!” said George, exchanging it for the bag of liquorice.

“Most people would want gloves the hold that,” Flo remarked.

George shrugged. “What’s the point? As long as I don’t lick it, I’ll be fine.”

Flo grinned.

George slipped the skull into a silver-net bag he retrieved from his pocket and wiped his slimy hands on his trousers. “Right, we’d better get a move on, if you don’t mind. Lucy will kill me if she finds me using the microwave for science again.”

* * *

George hefted the microwave out to the back garden where it couldn’t, theoretically, set anything on fire, then rolled out an extension cord along with it, before looping an iron chain around it, twice thick. He tipped out the slimy skull from the silver net bag into the confines of the chains, where a wispy figure rose up and the air became icy cold. It was obviously a weak ghost, and George couldn’t make out too many details. Maybe Lockwood would have been able too, but he was still away on the case, and George supposed that was probably a good thing. He wouldn’t be too happy about George’s latest experiment.

Nearby, Flo sat cross-legged on the grass with the ghost-jar in her lap. In the late-night darkness, the ghost was fully-formed within the jar and was busy making all manner of grotesque faces at Flo, but the relic-woman just grinned at it, face close to the glass.

“Aww, who’s a good ickle ghostie?”

“Don’t coddle it, Flo,” George said, rolling his eyes as he manoeuvred the slimy skull in the chains into the microwave by poking it with a long stick, which took several tries as it kept rolling away. “It gets enough of that from Lucy.”

Flo lifted the ghost jar and tilted it from side to side, churning the ectoplasm within and eliciting even more horrifying faces, and probably some very rude words, from the ghost in retaliation. “Ain’t this silverglass? Can you microwave that? Microwaving silverware is a great way to set someone’s house on fire, just for reference.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for the next time I want to commit arson,” said George. “But the silver’s infused in the glass, so it should be fine, right?” He took the jar from Flo and eyed it thoughtfully, trying his best to ignore the ghost within acting out flesh melting from bone. “Or maybe I can take it out of the jar?”

At that, the ghost inside reformed and batted its eyelashes. George raised an eyebrow.

“Or maybe not. Let’s just see how the control test goes first.”

George poked the microwave door shut with the stick, then, rather awkwardly, set the timer for one minute, before passing the stick to Flo so he could retrieve his notebook and pen.

“You’re gonna make notes on microwaving a ghost?” Flo remarked.

“It’s not science unless you write it down,” George replied. “Okay, press start.”

Flo poked the start button with the stick and the microwave began the hum.

Bright green sparks began to crackle behind the glass after only a few seconds, then a putrid stink filled the air, though that may have been the cooking algae. Through the microwave window, George could see the ectoplasm churn and thicken, bubbling and morphing into a vast number of shapes that could have been screaming faces.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, leaning closer to the chains to get a better look.

The microwave began to hiss, smoke started to pour from the edges of the door, followed by oozing green gunk, then the skull within blackened and cracked and sparks began appearing faster and bigger, lighting up the dark night a glowing lime green, popping and screeching like the ghost inside was screaming, louder and louder, brighter and brighter.

Then Flo grabbed George’s collar and yanked him to the ground just as the microwave exploded in a burst of green flame, showering them in shards of plastic, bone, and droplets of fried ectoplasm that hissed sharply as it came into contact with the grass and their clothing.

George lay on the floor, eyes squeezed shut to protect them from any debris, and only opened them and sat up when Flo started cackling.

“You blew the whole thing up! Look at it! And aww, look, you scared the little guy.”

George looked over to where Flo was bent over the ghost jar, face split wide in mirth as she stared down at the ghost, who had seemingly gotten so shocked, the ectoplasm had retreated back to hug the skull at the centre, revealing what it might have looked like when alive.

“Fascinating,” George said again, removing his now blackened glasses to clean on his shirt as the ghost in the jar melted back into its usual, hideous persona, its mouth moving rapidly in what George could only assume was a slur of threats and insults.

“I think you might need another microwave if you wanna try it on that one,” Flo told him, walking over to the charred spot in the centre of the chain and toeing the broken, blackened shell of what was once the Portland Row microwave.

“Actually, I should keep this one intact for now,” George replied, and maybe he imagined it, but the ghost in the jar seemed to relax a little. “Lucy would probably kill me if I broke it. But if you find any other sources you fancy microwaving, let me know.” He pushed his glasses further up his nose and inspected the broken shards of bone dotted about the lawn. “Well, we’ve found another way to destroy a source, at least.”

“Not the most straightforward of ways,” said Flo.

“But the most fun.”

“Can’t argue there.”

They grinned at each other, then George heard the front gate creak and someone turn a key in the front door. George turned his head to eye the kitchen window reproachfully, waiting for Lockwood and Lucy to enter and realise there was a gap on the counter where the microwave should have been.

“Good luck explaining this,” Flo said, and when George turned back around, she was gone.

“Oh, that’s fine. Just leave me to deal with this on my own,” he muttered, sarcastically, to no one.

A light switched on in the kitchen, the glow visible through the curtains. A few minutes passed, during which George began to think that maybe they hadn’t noticed, then Lucy yelled, “George! Where’s the microwave?!”

* * *

A few days passed before George went to see Flo again. She was sat on the river bank this time, swishing her feet about in the water.

“Hey,” George greeted.

Flo looked up and grinned. “Hey, Georgie! Get a new microwave yet?”

George plonked himself down on the ground beside her. “Yep. Lockwood duck-taped a sign to it saying ‘absolutely no science in this microwave!’. All caps.”

Flo snorted. “Can’t blame the boy.”

“I guess not,” George conceded. “He’s still bitter about the scorch marks on the lawn.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fresh bag of liquorice. “Brought this for you.”

“What for?” said Flo. “Want some more Sources? Locky need help on a case?”

“Huh?” said George. “No, I just thought we could hang out.”

Flo raised an eyebrow. “Hang out?” she repeated.

“Yeah, why not?” said George. “You’re pretty cool. Now, if you don’t take some of this liquorice soon, I’m going to eat it all, just a warning.”

Flo stared down at the bag in his hand for a moment, then took it from him. “Thanks,” she said, slowly.

“Hey, Lockwood finally paid me,” said George. “Fancy going to the arcade?”

Flo grinned. “Betcha can’t beat me at any of ‘em.”

“You’re on,” said George, standing and pulling Flo to her feet too, paying no mind to the river slime coating her hands. As he did so, a piece of liquorice fell from the bag and Flo bent to pick it up. “Still going to eat that?”

Flo shrugged. “Food is food, innit,” she said, popping it into her mouth.

George smiled. “Finally, someone who understands me.”


End file.
